


A Change

by marchionessofblackadder



Series: A Crown of Roses [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchionessofblackadder/pseuds/marchionessofblackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after their wedding night, Belle has an idea of how she wants to live her new life with her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change

**Author's Note:**

> Filling prompts that were submitted to me. Thanks, lovelies, I hope you like it!

Light filled the airy chambers, making the soft blue and white walls glow in the morning sunshine. The gold filigree made it gleam, too, and Belle almost thought, for one jarring moment as she woke up, that she was somewhere else. It took her a long while, laying beneath the sheets and ensconced in downy goose feather pillows, to realize that the curtains had been pulled back to let the light in, proclaiming a beautiful view of the northern mountains, their blue and purple rocks capped over with glistening white snow.

Beneath the sheets, Belle was delightfully warm and comfortable. It was a wretch to move, and the heat from the fire kept the foot of her bed toasty where her feet were curled. She turned onto her back with a lazy smile before finding herself alone. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest, remembering the night before when Rumpelstiltskin had tucked her in. She let out a loud sigh, blowing the air out of puffy cheeks and looking up at the canopy. She wanted to feel put out that he had left her-after everything they had said and done, but, slowly letting her mind assess her own situation, it was perhaps for the best he was not there. She had too much she wanted to think about.

Her limbs felt heavy, and she felt a warm fullness, like she’d been basking in the sunlight for too long. When she moved to sit up, intent on taking a bath before going to find Rumpelstiltskin, she shivered at the strange feeling between her hips and legs. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel a little odd, being aware of parts of herself in a new way.

Biting her lip, she drew the sheets away and gasped at the small smear of blood upon the mattress. Her face washed with a blush, and she jumped off the bed quickly, feeling a deep sense of shame. She stood on the bedside, watching the stain as if waiting for it to move. In truth, she had expected more pain, more blood, more unpleasantness. All she could really remember was feeling elated at being so close to Rumpelstiltskin, a secretly delicious sense of wickedness at knowing what it was men and women did behind closed doors.

Puffing out her cheeks with another sigh, she shook her head and covered the stain with the other sheets. She would find a cleaning solution later to get rid of it, or humble herself enough to ask Rumpelstiltskin for a potion. He was no fool, he would surely know what she needed it for.

Her bathing room was small, and Belle thought she would have liked to sit in a hot bath for a while. Instead, she ran the pump to fill her basin with steaming water and ran a cloth and soap quickly over herself, paying special attention between her legs, beneath her arms, and over her neck. It felt wonderful, refreshing, and then she dunked her head under the pump as well, wetting her hair to wash with lemon juice, rose oil, and the stout mixture she’d bought from the market last time she’d gone to town to fetch straw. The rhythmic washing kept her hands busy and left her free to think about Rumpelstiltskin and their ponderous situation.

If he had left her in the night, she chose to believe it was for good reasons. He had already told her he did not think of her as a true wife-that she would only be in name. That particular notion made her sad to think about, and she ruffled her nose. No, he had not left her to be cruel. Perhaps that was custom, of a wedding night? If it was, it seemed rather nonsensical to her. There was much she didn’t know in the ways of marriage-and she blushed to think about the few she’d learned the night before.

There was no need for her to feel embarrassed, though, and she knew it. She’d talked to enough midwives, enough giggling servant girls and their mothers to know the way of things once the deed was done. They had both taken their pleasure, however clumsy they had been, and Belle smiled to think on it now, her legs going tight as she squeezed her hair free of water and went to dress. It was late in the morning, and she wished for some tea, some cheese and fruit, but instead she made herself sit patiently in front of the fire while her hair dried and read her book, an old leather journal she had gotten from the library.

It was a nice contrast to the chill that crept along the carpeted floor from the windows, but with the fire warming her at her back, she settled sweetly as she read. She finished the book within the hour, since she’d been near the end anyway, and once she could pin the front of her hair back, away from her face, she tucked the book beneath her arm and set off in search of Rumpelstiltskin.

The halls of the Dark Castle had never seemed quieter, and she peeked her nose in between the double doors of the grand hall to find it empty. Wriggling her nose at the close darkness within, she set off for his tower in the west wing and huffed her way up the winding stairs. When steps turned from stone into wood, she sighed audibly, the exertion making her flush.

“Good afternoon,” Rumpelstiltskin said, and Belle yelped, dropping her book and almost falling back down the stairs to find him at the top, towering over her with an inquisitive gaze. At her stumble, his hand shot out and grabbed her before she could fall, righting her a little ungently. His eyes were shrewd while he brushed at her arms in short, quick swipes. “It’s a long tumble down, my dear, best to say on your feet.”

“You startled me!” Belle accused without any gusto, her chest shuddering to take a breath.

“I was only going to help you up the rest of the way,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered, kneeling down to retrieve her fallen book and making Belle blush down to the tips of her hair. He inspected the binding with a curious glance before handing it back to her, avoiding her eyes. “How did you find it?”

“Intriguing, enough. I don’t know much about the frontlands, and you have so many books on them. I was going to get another,” Belle answered, her voice mild as she watched him skip up the rest of the way, following him meekly. He had been spinning up at the top, and Belle was surprised to find his golden thread wound in tight clusters in a basket at his feet. Usually he let it spill where it would before tossing it away with a wave of his hand to somewhere she never knew.

Rumpelstiltskin made a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulders as he sat at his wheel again, with his back to it and facing her. He gestured towards the end of the empty table, clear of potions or poisons at the silver tray bearing the porcelain teaset. “There’s tea, if you want it.”

“Thank you.” She laid the book down before pushing herself upon the table closest to his wheel, watching him carefully. He was sorting the gold he’d just spun, untangling it carefully, and Belle smiled as she watched, pouring them both cups. Sweetening both and adding milk, Belle offered him a cup, however he reached for the other, the chipped one. Belle leaned away quickly, protesting, “It’s ruined.”

Rumpelstiltskin finally looked at her, dark eyes narrowed before he stood up and made his way towards her, slowly like a circling predator. Up until that moment, it hadn’t felt like anything had truly changed between them, but his eyes were warm and intense and raking over places he had touched the night before. Belle felt the smile slip from her face as he rested both hands on either side of her skirts and leaned down so they were eye level. “You could cut your lip,” he said quietly, but she thought it such an odd statement that she was sure he had intended to say something else and thought better of it.

“A kiss could make it better,” Belle said easily, not knowing where her affinity for clever words had come from. She almost simpered, but instead drew the chipped cup up to her lips and took a sip of the tea, sweet and light and a little earthy. Rumpelstiltskin watched her, holding her eyes captive the whole while, and her cheeks began to burn. He was almost standing between her knees, and an excitement began to knot in her belly, wondering what he would do.

His hand twitched upward, as if he wanted to catch the dust motes dancing in the air by her face, and he took half a step back. “Ah,” he mumbled, hesitating before turning and taking the other cup between his hands, mumbling quietly as he leaned back against the table beside her. “So it could.”

What had passed between them the night before was still vivid in her mind’s eye, never very far away from her thoughts, and she couldn’t help but feel a little shy where she had only ever felt a sense of companionship before. Now he _knew_ her, had seen her break and writhe and call out his name in his arms. It was different now, and Belle had feared as much. Yet, it was also comforting, watching him sip at his tea, for he did not hold himself so awkwardly as before. His shoulders were lax, his breathing quiet, and even Belle herself had to admit she felt oddly more at ease in his presence. They had no reason to hide from one another.

Perhaps this new feeling, then, was not so bad as she had feared.

“Did you sleep last night?” she asked, her voice soft as she put her cup to her lips again. She tilted her head curiously, making sure to catch his profile which he tried so earnestly to hide behind his hair.

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin murmured, his voice honest and small. He looked more put together than she’d seen him in some time. Not that he never looked anything less than impeccable, but something was different-his shirt shined brighter, his waistcoat’s color burned beneath the light, his leathers sleek and form-fitting. Even his hair seemed softer, curling gentler than when he’d first collected her from her father in exchange for the lives of their people. It had been a frenzied mess, then. “No, I had work to do.”

“Work?” Belle asked, glancing over at his table. There was nothing brewing, nothing waiting for his attentions. In fact, it was utterly calm in the room that so often smelled earthy and acidic and felt humid with his magic pressing in from all around.

“Did you...sleep well?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, chancing a glance at her from around the edge of his hair. His eyes were big, wide and dark and still so shy.

Belle couldn’t help but smile a little softly, knowing what he asked her but did not use with words. She finished her tea before setting the chipped cup beside her leg on the table, folding her hands in her lap. “Better than I have in a while,” she confessed, blinking slowly at him. She had felt exasperated when she’d woken up alone, but now seeing him so jittery, she could not fault him for leaving her. He had lived centuries without the company of another person, from her knowledge. If he was this abuzz with his thoughts, how could she have expected him to sleep, let alone with her after what they had shared?

Then again, the memory of his face, smooth of lines and completely, for that one moment, happy, when she’d put her head on his chest, was forever burned in her mind.

“Good,” he let out a long breath he’d been holding, bobbing his head in a quick succession of nods. He smiled, a small, sweet thing that made Belle press her lips together in adoration.  Where had this soft warmth for him come from? He gave a little shiver before sipping his tea. “Good, yes… good.”

Just days before, she had barely been able to utter the word “wife.” Now she sat at his elbow, content to listen to the quiet mountain wind beyond the glass panes of the windows and watch him sip at his tea. She had told him that she could love him-that she was choosing to. Her heart was burning to know if he felt anything close to the same, but her bravery did not extend far enough to ask that yet. Her hand itched to reach out and touch his hair, just a soft little stroke of affection, but he straightened before she could and flourished the cup back onto the silver tray. He plucked up the chipped cup before setting her with a wry look, twisting his lips and holding it to her, saying, “From now on, I claim this one.”

“Why?” Belle laughed gently, watching him. “It’s chipped. One more accident, and it’ll break entirely.”

“Best to leave it with me, then, isn’t it?” Rumpelstiltskin replied, wrinkling his nose at her.

“If you say so,” Belle answered with an indulgent shake of her head. He went to pass her, to return to his spinning wheel, and she wondered if he wasn’t going to attend to any magic or business today. He’d had days before that he just devoted to spinning, spent in quiet solitude with only gruff, brief answers to her questions or nudges for conversation. Before he could elude her, Belle reached out and took his hand, drawing it between both of hers. She didn’t mind his flinch or his jump, and smiled, trying to reassure him as she drew his chilly, scaly hand between her own. “May I ask you...it’s just I don’t feel we’ve...truly talked since everything began happening.”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked slowly at her, his wide eyes ever watchful like a cat. His fingers twitched in hers, and he bowed his head in assent. “Of course.”

Belle drew herself up with a breath and nodded, speaking slowly, “It’s just that...I want to make sure we are…” Biting her lip, she sighed, clutching his hand tightly before looking back up at him. “Are you happy with me here, Rumple?”

His eyes brightened, flickering with interest, and Belle felt herself blush. The name itself rolled easily off her tongue, because she often thought it when she was thinking of him. A smile was threatening his face as he inclined his head curiously, tapping his nails along the chipped cup he held in his other hand. “What did you call me?” he asked lightly.

Sensing mischief, Belle bit her lip, crossing her ankles as she swung them gently off the edge of the table. “Should I not call you such?” She thought of the night before, her rather delicious struggle in crying out his name when they were wrapped up in each other, and the darkening of his eyes when she’d gasped it. The idea that he _liked_ it…

“I have many names; use whichever you wish,” Rumpelstiltskin said, hesitating and glancing down at their hands. His thumb brushed over her knuckles affectionately, and she felt warmth pool in her belly. He drew his hands away to touch beneath her chin and raise her eyes to his. He leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, and Belle sighed, leaning closer as he whispered, “I will never tire to hear them from you.”

Belle’s vision went unfocused, her breath shuddering in her chest at the brush of affection before the sorcerer-her husband-pulled away to attend his wheel. She watched him, wordlessly for a moment, trying to decide on what she should feel. A quiet joy was swelling in her breast, and she bit her lip, deciding to be brave. He used his wheel to forget, but she did not want to be forgotten.

Not that morning, not that _moment_.

Sliding off the table, she walked up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders, trying her best not to disturb the quiet rhythm his hands had found in sorting his golden thread, and she leaned over to kiss at his cheek. Her lips caught some of his curly hair, but he seemed no less pleased and even leaned his back against her hands. The temptation to draw him back fully against her and stroke his hair was overwhelming.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Belle said softly, pressing her thumbs into the muscle behind his shoulders. She felt him shiver beneath her hands and smiled, squeezing him there.

“I’ve forgotten it.”

“Are you happy with me here?”

When he carried on being silent, but she saw his hands freeze over the basket, she slid her own from his shoulders and took a seat upon the spinning wheel. His eyes were wide, and his lips were pressed together as if he might be sick into his basket. When she moved, he looked up at her, and she could hear him gulp whatever words he might have been gathering. He gripped the sides of the basket and finally looked down at the thread, clearing his throat roughly and mumbling, “Well I’m...not unhappy.” 

No, he certainly wasn’t. Petrified of her, for whatever reason, perhaps, but he didn’t seem unhappy. It was much easier to open up to him behind her bedroom door, where neither magic nor duty had a voice in what they had to be with one another. He had made her laugh, and in turn she had made him smile.

That sweet reminder brought a new idea to Belle, and she sat up a little straighter, and reached out to touch his knee. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, glancing down at her fingers, but she ignored that. “Do you mind if…” Her heart suddenly felt heavier in her chest when he looked back up at her, and she bit her lip.

“Yes?”

“...if I changed bedrooms?”

Clearly, it was not what he was expecting in the way of a request, because he blinked rapidly at her before his lips threatened a smile, twitching against his will. He straightened his shoulders and looked back down at his gold, waving a hand carelessly. “The castle is your home. Do with it what you will.”

Smiling brightly, Belle leaned forward and kissed him. Well, she tried to.

Her lips caught the corner of his mouth and a bit of his curly hair, but she thought it sweet nonetheless. She squeezed his shoulder as she leapt off the spinning wheel, hurrying out of the tower with new purpose.

 _Do the brave thing, do the brave thing_ , she chanted silently, taking the stairs two at a time, hopping like a jackrabbit until she plunked upon the stone floor. With Rumpelstiltskin, she knew by way of experience that earning his trust was what would get him to speak more honestly with her. It’s not that he lied, not really-he wore a mask, though, and as his wife, Belle decided that she would take up the challenge of removing it.

Not by herself, but by getting him to take it off. Willingly, and for her.

It was a fanciful idea, in theory, but she knew she would have to be careful in her execution or else he’d withdraw from her even more. This was a good start, she thought, piling up her books from her dresser into her trunk. It didn’t take her very long to relocate to her new bedroom, and she found she quite liked it more than she thought she would.

The rest of the morning was spent with lemon juice and lye, scrubbing and polishing and dusting the chamber. There were four grand windows that lined the back wall, similar to her own room, though this one was indeed larger and more luxurious. Where Belle’s had been lighter, decorated in schemes of cream and crystal blue, this room was warmer. The walls were covered in hanging tapestries, and the sheets were dark red and rose. The rugs were thick, as if they hadn’t been walked on very much, and Belle smiled as she took her shoes off and let her toes sink into the plush floor. Once she had dusted the furniture, it took all of her weight to open the windows, for they were taller than any man she’d ever met and wider than the doors (and those already gave her trouble). 

It was quite bare, aside from the bed, desk, dresser, and shelf, though, so Belle decided to hunt down whatever she could find. Most of the castle rooms were empty, but she brought her favorite chair from the library, even though it was nearly the castle’s length away. Still, the pretty rose cushions and cherry wood frame looked lovely in front of the fireplace once she got it settled, and she tossed the weathered green velvet shawl from home over the arm.

Rumpelstiltskin had confessed to sleeping more in his chair by the fire, and Belle wondered if she could somehow get it up from downstairs without his help or his magic. She decided after her tiring trek from the library that it was a chore for another day.

Gathering quills, ink, and paper, she arranged the desk, filled the shelves with her books and ornaments from home, and was just arranging a small blue and white china vase with wild flowers on the tea table when the door was kicked open by the master himself.

Belle turned around with a smile, and Rumpelstiltskin froze, blinking at the scene before him as if he didn’t know where he was. When he didn’t say anything, simply looked at her and blinked against the rather bright sunshine spilling in from the windows, Belle looked back at the flowers, snipping some of the excess greenery, and asked, “Would you like something to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“Only what you said I could,” Belle answered breezily, carrying the vase over to the windowsill and fluffing the daffodils and cheery orange blossoms. She gathered up the leaves and turned around, raising her eyebrows at her husband who was watching her with equal levels of suspicion and confusion. “That I could have a new bedroom.”

“Ah…” His eyes fell, glancing at her chest, then to the fire, then to the bed, and he swallowed thickly, bobbing his head in a nod. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.” It was a wretch to keep her face as serious as possible, when he looked like for all the world a lost little deer finding its new footing, but she didn’t want him to think she was teasing, so she bit the inside of her cheek. “I hope you don’t mind, I was rearranging…”

“A bird shifting her nest,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his hands falling behind his back as he walked into the room, and when Belle met his eyes, he was smiling in a way that smoothed the lines and bumps of his scales. He was almost handsome, but very, very fine, too, and Belle felt herself blushing. He leaned over and sniffed at the flowers, the honeysuckle and violets, humming. “I like it,” he paused, glancing up at her as he straightened. “I’ll remove my things-”

“You need not,” Belle said too quickly, almost before he finished. He startled, looking lost, and Belle ducked her head, saying, “I thought perhaps you could bring your chair to join mine.” She looked back at the fire where it was snapping and popping merrily. The leaves she’d snipped were growing damp squeezed tightly between her fingers. “We could read together.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her again, like he was having trouble understanding their conversation, but then he shut his eyes and gave a toss of his head, nodding. “Of-of course. If you want.”

“It’ll be nicer than reading downstairs just to get cold again on the walk up here,” Belle reasoned lightly. She leaned forward and tossed the leaves from her wildflower bouquet into the fire, liking the way it hissed and popped. She leaned against the back of her chair, desperately wanting to sit down; all the moving that had taken up most of the morning and afternoon had tired her, and now her heart was thudding in her chest like a harried bird attempting escape from its cage because Rumpelstiltskin was looking at her so strangely without saying anything. Instead, she gripped the cherry wood frame with white knuckles and produced a defiantly cheerful smile.

He made a noise that was between a scoff and clearing his throat, and his fingers were moving quickly against the leather of his trousers, tapping his leg as he puzzled out what she was laying before him. “I’m not sure I follow your meaning, dearie.”

 _Dearie_. Oh no.

“No?” her voice wasn’t shaking like her resolve was, and she slipped closer to the fire to sit in her chair, primly near the edge and folding her hands in her lap. Some habits couldn’t be broken, she supposed, trying to relax back against the cushions and failing. She wrinkled her nose and cocked her head so her chin tilted up, examining him from boot tip to curly hair. “I think you do, _Rumple_.”

The wizard twitched at the name as though he were a cat that had been pet the wrong way. Then his features tightened with narrowed eyes, and he snapped his arm down in a showy gesture of oily purple smoke. Belle had trained herself not to jump quite so violently at his spells and tricks, but she certainly couldn’t contain her pleasure upon seeing his own chair from downstairs having materialized across from hers, deep mahogany wood with rich cognac leather. He stepped around it, mirroring her own actions, and sat back as regally as a king upon his throne, crossing a knee over his leg and resting his hands on the arms. “Sit I shall, my lady,” he said, then raised a hand to wag a finger at her, his impish giggle just beneath the surface of his words. “But no more than that.”

Belle felt a thorny hurt well up in her heart that she couldn’t quite put a name to. It wasn’t rejection, for she knew he wanted her-wanted her as much as she wanted him, at least. She also knew he didn’t love her, but he did care for her. There was no question of his affection, in that regard. Pursing her lips, Belle finally relaxed enough to sit back and kept her face as neutral as she possibly could, thinking of how her father had always kept his composure during a difficult situation...save the last time she saw him.

“I’m not intending to usurp your chambers,” Belle finally said, looking down at her fingers inquisitively. Some brides were given jewels, tokens of their new stations in life, but her hands remained plain, dry from soap and cracked from the cold mountain air. With her slowly creeping exhaustion, she lost the will to truly play the game and looked up at him with a soft sigh, “I just like your company. I want to know you, and be close to you. May I not have that?”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her with an odd mixture of fear and pain. His fingers stopped their restless movements, and he swallowed thickly. Yet said nothing, and Belle looked away, feeling hopelessness accompany her exhaustion.

“Want and need are not the same,” Rumpelstiltskin finally answered quietly, the trace of the mischievous imp gone from his voice and only leaving a thoughtful, sad little man in its wake. He looked down at his hands now threaded in his lap, and his shoulders sank back against his chair. “You...you would wish to forget the things you learn about me, if you did.”

“I should make that choice for myself,” Belle answered sharper than she’d intended, flushing at the sudden urge towards anger. She was usually so slow to it, but looked at him pointedly, twisting her skirts against her legs. “I’ve taken your measure thus far and not found you lacking, Rumpelstiltskin. What are you so afraid of?”

“Your regret,” the wizard snapped back, almost before the words were out of her mouth, and they were both glaring at each other without Belle being too sure of the reason. Rumpelstiltskin looked close to snarling, but when he spoke, he turned his eyes away from her, and it was nearly a whisper. “I will not be at fault for your self-loathing once you learn the truth because you want something you read out of a storybook.”

Mouth hanging open, Belle stared at him until he pushed himself to his feet, pacing away and shaking his hands at his sides. She folded herself up comfortably against the cushion, turning to look at the fire and touching her neck because suddenly she was very aware of her hands and was unsure what to do with them. Thinking on what he said, on what he meant, was making her head hurt. He was looking at her again from across the room-something she could see out of the corner of her eye.

He treats me like a child he doesn’t know what to do with. When she said nothing, nor made a move to help him out of the grave he was digging, Rumpelstiltskin walked closer, and she could feel the emotion slipping away from him with every step. With his anger, it swelled and filled the room until she almost couldn’t breathe, but now it was gone. They both seemed defeated to find themselves at cross purposes.

“Do you think the things I said last night were lies?” Belle asked finally, when his boots came almost close enough to kiss the hem of her skirts. She looked back up at him, and he stood in front of her like a lost little boy. Slowly, he knelt down before her and rested his hands on either side of her knees, listening. “I meant every word. I can love you. You can be loved.”

He opened his mouth, but Belle held up her hand and, surprisingly, it worked to still his tongue. She pulled the emerald green shawl up from the arm of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders, toeing off her slippers and drawing her feet up underneath her. “I don’t wish to argue,” she said, looking down at her hands again. “In fact, I think I’d like to be alone.”

Rumpelstiltskin closed his mouth and nodded once, avoiding her eyes as he stood up with all the uncertainty she had ever seen him possess. He paused, turning back toward her, but unable to raise his gaze past her lap. “Will I see you at dinner?”

_You don’t even want to see me now._

“No, thank you,” Belle answered quietly, and turned away, pulling her shawl tight around her. “I won’t be hungry.”

It took a full moment for her to hear the door finally close, and Belle closed her eyes against tears. For that, at least, she was grateful that she was alone.


End file.
